Touch
by windwhisprer
Summary: .:Drabble series, no paring:. Touch is something that every human needs to survive. Why is something so simple so difficult to understand?
1. Cho Hakkai

**Touch**

**Cho Hakkai**

Out of all of them, he needs it the least.

Touch, to him, is something that he's had and lost, doesn't think it's needed anymore. Perhaps that is why, out of the four of them, he needs it the most.

He had touch once; the ability to feel skin close to his own. He spent hours some mornings in bed with the woman he loved, simply touching, loving, being and giving her everything he had. He would always love the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, and her hair, whether it was dancing over his bare chest or otherwise. However, mostly he loved the feeling of her fingers interlaced with his own.

However, he lost that warm touch. Like every other sense, touch can come back to haunt you. Like touching the long dead corpse of the woman he loved. It's insane to think he is able to touch anything at all, with hands he continually sees stained with blood. No one else can see this blood, but he can. He can still feel it cloaking his fingers, drying, itching, burning...

So he smiles like a doll set up on display. He smiles like it's painted on his skin, like he just can't _not _smile. He smiles when he's angry or upset or in pain. He uses those hands now not to touch, but instead to heal. He refuses to indulge in the touch he so desperately needs. Instead, he heals the wounded—atonement for his sins—smiles because it is his default expression, and uses those hands to fold laundry. He cannot take back what has already been done, but he can atone for it. He will always punish himself by never submitting to another's touch.

However, he doesn't seem to realize how much he likes—no, needs, loves, desires—it when another leans against him, nudges him, throws an arm around him...


	2. Genjyo Sanzo

**Touch **

**Genjyo Sanzo**

Out of all of them, he denies it the most; denies the fact that humans need to touch one another.

He validates his existence not by the feel of another person beneath his hands, but with the cold steel and the resonating _bang_ from the gun. He says he doesn't need to be close enough to anyone, and kills all those who dare approach him.

He is, after all, the untouchable peacock. He stands alone with his head held high, fluffing out his feathers for the entire world to see. Many want to touch him, feel his ivory skin beneath their fingers. Some spend hours wondering how his hair would feel. Would it be soft? Others wonder how he would feel in bed, plunging deep inside him, tainting that perfect pale skin. None will ever know, though, for he hates the mere idea of touch. There are only few that are even allowed to touch him, and even they are met with the barrel of a gun often enough to deter them from it.

He stands alone, walks alone, lives alone. Once, he had the simple, parental touch. It was all he had; he wanted more, but was happy and content with what he had. Then, it too was ripped away from him. Years afterwards he spent running from a touch that was nothing like he had experienced; dark, with malicious intent. Pinned down under the light of the stars, unable to fight away the grip of his attackers as he was stripped down...

That is why the gun is the only touch he is able to stand. It protects him, and he is able to stave off those dark touches that only wish to harm. It is the only one he lets close to him, and often he spends hours cleaning it, lost in thought. His hands move automatically, knowing the small weapon better than he knows himself.

However, he craves the touch of others. When those who he deems worthy enough to touch him do so, he tenses under the contact. However, his muscles relax and he lets them, just for a little while. Until it comes back to him that he is the peacock, strong and independent. He breaks away and strolls on ahead, outraged by the hand that had moments ago been grazing his arm.

Meanwhile he wants, and he craves.


	3. Son Goku

**Touch **

**Son Goku**

Out of all of them, he is content with the touch he gets.

He could use more, or he could use less. Unlike the others, he never had touch and then lost it. He never had the feeling of another beneath his hands. Instead, he had nothing but the feeling of hard rock beneath his hands for so long. He could feel nothing but the roughness that scratched his palms and dirtied his skin.

After so many years, he couldn't even tell the difference between the feeling of his own skin in comparison to the rock. He had no other warmth besides the little the sun provided him. He was so cold he went numb, and after so many years he didn't know what another person felt like. He could never remember having contact with another person, but he had to have, right? Why would he want it so much if he hadn't already had a taste of it?

So he sat, the palms of his hands worn away after years and years and years. He went without touch for so long, everything felt the same. There was no difference between the feeling of his hair or his skin or the rock he sat on. It was all the same.

Then, a hand outstretched to him, and when he grabbed on, it felt like he was rejuvenated. He could feel the softness in the man's skin that saved him, and in the trees and the grass. Suddenly, he had to touch everything and anything; it was as though his sense of touch had been returned to him in a single gasp of air.

Whether he's wrestling with another, or seeking the simple pat on the head from his sun, he is constantly soaking up the touch bestowed upon him. He does not deny himself, having denied himself for over five hundred years. He soaks up the feeling of another's skin beneath his hands, anxious for the next step but patiently waiting for the others to be ready for that. He wants to know more. He wants to feel completely and totally loved, know how it feels to explore flesh in every way he can. He wants to try it all, but he knows the others aren't ready for him to grow up quite yet.

He's more than ready, but he's willing to wait.


	4. Sha Gojyo

**Touch **

**Sha**** Gojyo**

Out of all of them, he wants it the most.

It really may not seem like it. He acts cool and aloof. He acts like he's got everything he needs and no one should have to worry about him, since he can take care of himself. He's a lone wolf, a hot tomato. He's comfortable with himself and confident enough.

However, he came from a world where touch was simply forbidden. He loved his mother with everything he had, but she would not return his affections. She beat him harshly, and whenever he asked or pleaded for the warm, soothing touch only a mother could bestow, she smacked him smartly for it.

Still, he never gave up. He did not come to detest touch like another of his group, but craved it more and more and more. When he finally did get to touch her gently, when he was able to place his hands to her face without her striking back, it was only because her heart had stopped beating. His hands had shook as he stared down into her lifeless face, still pleading for her to open her eyes, embrace him in a hug and tell him that everything was all right.

He never gave up searching for that touch. He is constantly going and lying with woman, and had been since he turned fifteen. He is constantly touching these faceless, nameless women who mean nothing to him. It is not really the satisfaction of the sex that he's looking for. Rather it's just the feeling of skin beneath his hands, and the sound of some woman calling his name as he did everything he could to please her.

It validates his existence, this ability to touch. It's demonstrated in the group as well, whether he's sliding a little too close to a certain brunet, fighting with his partner in the backseat or playing the 'I'm not touching you' game with the leader of their party. He is always getting each nudge, tickle, or punch he can get. He wants it more than any other of the members. It makes him feel as though he's there, and he matters.

As though his mother was wrong; he's not a waste, and never will be.


End file.
